


something like home

by nightswatch



Category: All For the Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Future Fic, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-23
Updated: 2016-08-23
Packaged: 2018-08-10 14:42:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7849105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightswatch/pseuds/nightswatch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Andrew keeps showing up at Neil's apartment. But that's what he gave him the key for, isn't it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	something like home

There’s someone in Neil’s apartment. And whoever it is isn’t really making an effort to stay undetected. When Neil unlocks the door, he finds the lights on in the hallway, in the kitchen, and in the living room. The intruder is clearly in the kitchen. Rummaging through Neil’s fridge.

Neil doesn’t bother closing the door quietly. He kicks off his shoes and they land on the floor with a loud thump. His team hoodie still on, Neil leans in the doorway to the kitchen, enjoying the view for a moment. 

Andrew has his head in Neil’s fridge. Neil knew from the start that it was  him. He keeps showing up here, unannounced, after practice with his team – their stadium is nearly a two-hour drive away. One and a half when there's no traffic. Maybe they finished early today, maybe Neil stuck around especially long after practice to throw a few balls around with his teammates after the official end of practice. Doesn’t matter.

One of Neil’s cats is watching Andrew from under the kitchen table.

Andrew doesn’t acknowledge Neil’s presence. That doesn’t mean, of course, that Andrew hasn’t noticed that he’s there. He’s in his boxers and he’s pulled on Neil’s old Palmetto Foxes sweatshirt. The sight of it makes nostalgia well up in Neil for a moment.

He thinks of their rooftop and of Andrew squeezing himself into Neil’s tiny dorm bed with him, he thinks of the first time they kissed, he thinks of Andrew wearing that exact hoodie, he thinks of the first time Neil peeled him out of that hoodie. He thinks of the people they used to be. He smiles about the people they’ve become. 

“What are you doing here?” Neil asks.

“I was bored,” Andrew replies. 

“You drove two hours because you were bored,” Neil says. “Could have just watched a movie instead.” Except that Andrew wasn’t actually bored, or maybe he was and it’s working as a convenient excuse. Still, watching a movie had never actually been an option and they both know it. Neil is just teasing. A little. 

Andrew wanted to see him. He’ll never be the kind of person who says things like, _I drove two hours because wanted to see you_. But that’s okay. He shows up out of nowhere and makes himself comfortable in Neil’s bed, grumbles at the cats and then falls asleep with one of them on his chest five minutes later, eats all of Neil’s food, doesn’t talk much, and steals Neil’s clothes when he leaves again. Neil should say goodbye to that hoodie for the time being, because it’s definitely leaving with Andrew tomorrow morning. 

He’ll get a chance to steal it back the next time he visits Andrew. In all honesty, Neil doesn’t actually mind that Andrew nicks his clothes. He doesn’t mind that Andrew shows up here out of the blue either. He gave Andrew the keys. He wants him to show up.

If it wasn’t for the two-hour drive, Neil would have asked him to just stay here a long time ago. 

“The contents of your fridge are appalling,” Andrew says. He closes the fridge door and leans against the counter. “There’s basically nothing in there.”

“Haven’t had time to go grocery shopping,” Neil says. He steps closer, and watches Andrew's face. 

They haven’t seen each other in a little over a week. It’s not that long in the grand scheme of things. While they don’t have entirely different lives, their teams still have different schedules. Sometimes they can’t just take off and leave to see each other. And on some days, even though that’s a wholly different story, they work better when they’re not in each other’s company anyway. 

“Hey,” Neil says. He takes another step closer to Andrew. He doesn’t touch him. Not yet. There’s still some space between them, enough that Andrew can step away if he wants to.

But he doesn’t want to. He’s looking back at Neil, eyes wide awake, his gaze steady. Neil always misses those brown eyes staring back at him. Andrew doesn’t tell him not too look at him anymore. He stares back now, all cool defiance, like it’s some sort of competition. If Neil looks a little harder, and for a little longer, Andrew’s eyes almost seem warm. The longer they look at each other, the easier it is to find something soft in them.

Andrew nods. That’s all Neil needs as permission to reach out. He trails his fingers down Andrew’s cheek, then he threads them into Andrew’s hair and pulls him in for a kiss. Neil always starts from there. Even after all these years, years in which they’ve gone from _yes or no_ s to simple nods, years in which they’ve got to know each other, years in which they’ve learned to read each other, Neil starts where he knows it’s okay. This is where Andrew first allowed Neil to touch him and this is where he goes back to every time. 

Hands on Neil’s hips, Andrew pulls him closer and kisses him hard. “How was practice?” Andrew asks, his tone mocking the question itself. 

“Good,” Neil only says. He trails his fingers down Andrew’s neck, pauses, waits for Andrew to say something, and lets them wander further down when he doesn’t. He kisses Andrew’s neck, because he’s been thinking about it, and then he just holds Andrew for a moment, because today it’s okay, today he lets him, and because Neil has been thinking about that, too. He doesn’t hold on for too long; Andrew is probably three seconds away from telling him how much he hates him. 

It’s just, sometimes Neil needs this. And Andrew lets him have it. Andrew is everything Neil never thought he’d have and on some days he needs to hold on to it, to Andrew. 

Neil lets go of him soon enough, but Andrew doesn’t move away. Still leaning against the counter, he looks back at Neil. Seconds tick by, then Andrew takes Neil’s hand and puts it back on his chest. Neil can feel Andrew’s heart beating fast against his fingertips. 

“Yeah?” Neil asks. He’s just checking if that is a yes and he would even if Andrew told him that he doesn’t need to anymore. Andrew does it as well, he does it all the time, so this won’t earn Neil a _look_ , one of those that Andrew always gave him when Neil asked him if he was sure. 

Andrew is sure. “Yeah,” he says and tugs Neil out of the kitchen and down the hall, to his bedroom. 

*

Andrew is sitting by the living room window, a cigarette between his fingers. 

Neil can see him from afar and nearly slips on a patch of ice on the sidewalk when he realizes why one of his windows is wide open despite the freezing cold.

It’s Saturday afternoon. Andrew did tell Neil with as little enthusiasm as humanly possible that he’d be spending Christmas with him, but he wasn’t supposed to come by before tomorrow evening.Neil has no idea how long Andrew has been here; he’s been out for the last two hours and if he’d known that Andrew was here, he might have cut his visit to the gym short. 

He _definitely_ would have cut his visit to the gym short.

Andrew watches him approach, face unmoving. 

“Hey,” Neil calls up to him once he’s under the window. Snow is falling and some of it gets caught in his eyelashes when he looks up at Andrew.

“Hey,” Andrew says. 

One word and Neil can already tell that Andrew is in a strange mood. 

Neil doesn’t even try to talk to him from down here, just jogs up the stairs, shrugs off his jacket and yanks off his shoes. Andrew is still sitting by the window, the cigarette gone. He’s wearing his wristbands; Neil hasn’t seen those in a while and the sight of them makes him feel even colder. 

“Change of plans?” Neil asks. He steps up to Andrew and leans against the wall. Today is not a day for a gentle touch and a kiss to say hello. Today is a day that needs redefined boundaries.

“I guess,” Andrew says. 

“When did you get here?”

Andrew shrugs. “An hour ago.”

“You could have called.”

Andrew doesn’t reply. 

Now that they live in different cities, Neil makes an effort to keep his phone charged. He also makes an effort to answer his phone when it rings. A couple of days ago, he was the one who called Andrew in the middle of the night, the clock reading 2:48 am, because, well, he was awake, but not awake enough to realize that calling Andrew at three in the morning wasn’t the best idea he’s ever had.

But it wasn’t the worst idea he’s ever had either. He heard Andrew’s voice, asking him if he was dying of if he could hang up, and instantly felt calm. Neil wasn’t dying, of course, although waking up felt like it for a moment. He went back to sleep after they talked, ever so briefly, about nothing in particular. 

Andrew takes another cigarette, lights it, and hands it to Neil. They both watch as it burns down, then Neil hands it back to Andrew, who takes a drag and stubs it out. 

“You know,” Andrew says, as he closes the window, “that’s the ugliest tree I’ve ever seen.”

Neil glances at his Christmas tree – tiny, crooked, with two tips. He didn’t put much effort into decorating it. Actually, he simply wound a string of lights around it and that was that. Anything else would, inevitably, become a victim of his overly playful cats. 

“I thought we weren’t,” Andrew scrunches up his nose, “doing that.”

“It was a spur of the moment thing,” Neil says. He walked past a guy selling the last of his trees about a week ago and no one wanted that one, so Neil took it home without giving it too much thought. But Andrew is right. The tree wasn’t part of the plan. “You’re still not getting a present.”

It tickles something like a smile out of Andrew, but it’s gone so fast that Neil isn’t sure if he imagined it. 

“Are you hungry?” Neil asks. 

Andrew shrugs, which is probably saying that he’ll eat something if Neil does as well, so Neil gets the takeout menus.

When he returns, Andrew is on the couch, eyes still on Neil’s crooked tree.

“Why didn’t you call?” Neil asks.

“I figured you’d come home at some point,” Andrew says. “And I wasn’t wrong.” He snatches one of the menus from Neil and glares at him. “Stop it.”

Neil averts his gaze. Still, he can’t help but wonder why Andrew is here a day early and if something happened or if he’s just having a particularly bad day. Either way, Andrew wouldn’t want to talk about it, so there’s no point in asking. 

They order pizza and they watch TV and they don’t say more than strictly necessary – “Pass me a napkin” here, “Can you turn up the volume” there. Neil gets up to turn on the lights of his Christmas tree and when he sits back down, he grabs a blanket and Andrew scoots a little closer.

His head on Neil’s shoulder, Andrew sighs. “Do you have anywhere to be tomorrow?”

“No,” Neil says. “But I thought you had somewhere to be tomorrow.”

“As you’ve already deduced,” Andrew says, “there’s been a change of plans.”

“You’re not going to tell me what happened, are you?”

Andrew doesn’t reply. 

“Fine,” Neil says. It is fine. Andrew is here and Neil loves having him here. He tugs his arm free and, when Andrew has looked up, nodded and settled back down, Neil puts it around him. 

Neil yawns. He’s not really paying attention to that movie anymore, actually he’s not sure which movie they’re even watching. He’s going to sleep in tomorrow morning and when he wakes up, Andrew is going to be there, either still fast asleep or making a mess in his kitchen. He can probably add _or glaring at the ugly Christmas tree_ to that list.

His eyes have already fluttered shut when Andrew breaks the silence and says, “I might have got you a present.” A pause, then he adds, “But it’s not a Christmas present. Just a present.”

Neil perks up. “Why?”

“I don’t know, Josten. Maybe I thought you’d like it.”

“But–”

“A hundred and ten percent,” Andrew says off-handedly. “At least.”

Neil keeps his mouth shut then and hides his smile in Andrew’s hair. Andrew lets him do that for the better part of a minute, then he shifts and kicks off the blanket.

“I’m going to bed,” he says.

“Okay,” Neil says, “I’ll…” He nods at the TV. He’ll give Andrew a minute, just in case he needs one. 

Andrew only grunts in reply and shuffles out of the living room. 

Neil switches off the TV, because he wasn’t really paying attention in the first place, then he turns off the lights on his crooked tree. He checks his phone – just a text from a teammate that he quickly replies to – and sits in the darkness of the living room, listening to the noises his apartment makes when there’s someone else here with him. 

It sounds less empty when Andrew is here. It sounds a lot more like _home_. 

Something fluffy wanders across his legs and curls up next to him. Neil waits until he hears the creak of the bathroom door and footsteps padding into his bedroom, then he gets up. He leaves his phone on the table. No need to set an alarm for tomorrow morning. 

There’s a towel hanging next to Neil’s in the bathroom, and there’s Andrew’s clothes, carelessly discarded on Neil’s bedroom floor, and there’s Andrew, already wrapped up, blond hair sticking out from under the covers, and for a moment, to Neil breathing seems like the easiest thing in the world.

*

It’s past 1 AM when Neil gets back to his apartment. It started drizzling about ten minutes ago, otherwise he would have kept running.

He went to bed early after practice, fell asleep instantly, and woke up just before midnight, his heart racing, his breath catching in his throat. He threw off the sheets, yanked the window open, and took a few deep breaths. When that didn’t do any good, Neil pulled on his running gear. 

On some days the dreams are worse than on others, on some days a few deep breaths and cold night air will do the trick. But tonight his bedroom was too small; it was a trap, and all that could help was getting out. Out, out, out. Out of his bedroom, out of his apartment, out of his head. 

Running down empty streets, his thoughts carefully focused on nothing at all, the sound of his feet hitting the asphalt, it has calmed him down. There was barely anyone in the streets. He ignored the people who shot him confused looks as he passed. In the dark, in the glow of the streetlights, the scars on his arms and his face look like a trick of the light. 

Neil stands in the drizzle for a moment before he slowly walks up the steps to the front door. He feels awake now, properly awake. 

He’s awake. He’s alive. 

Maybe it’s safe to give sleep a second chance. 

As he fumbles for his keys, Neil looks around, scanning the empty street. Old habits. He doesn’t expect to spot a familiar car a few spots down. Andrew is here. Neil glances up at his flat, but the lights are out, the windows pitch-black. 

Neil fits the key into the door with a sense of urgency.The apartment building is quiet. He leaves wet footprints on the stairs as he hurries up to his apartment.

He was at Andrew’s over the weekend and Andrew didn’t mention that he was planning on coming by. Then again, he hardly ever does. It’s the middle of the week; they both have practice tomorrow morning. This isn’t a planned visit. It’s past 1 AM. It must have been a spur of the moment thing, it must have been Andrew getting in his car and driving down here because he felt like it, it must have been Andrew doing what Neil couldn’t ask him to do. 

Andrew has no idea that Neil has been running through near-empty streets for the past hour. But he’s here and Neil has never been more glad about Andrew’s tendency to show up at his place out of the blue. 

Neil doesn’t turn on the lights after he unlocks his door and comes to regret it a moment later when he nearly trips over one of the cats. Neil curses under his breath and reaches for the light switch after all. Andrew’s shoes are by the door, his car keys have ended up next to Neil’s. He’s not in the kitchen, not in the living room. The lights are off in the entire apartment. 

On his way to his bedroom, Neil pulls off his damp clothes and tosses them into the bathroom. He grabs the shirt that’s hanging over the rim of his bathtub and sneaks into his bedroom.

Well, he makes it as far as the doorway. 

The door is wide open and Andrew is in Neil’s bed, fast asleep. Andrew hasn’t closed the curtains; they’re still open from when Neil yanked the window open earlier. The streetlights are giving the room a strange orange glow. Andrew quite obviously doesn’t care. The sheets are tangled around his legs, but his toes are sticking out. He’s on Neil’s side of the bed, face half-hidden in his pillow. 

Part of Neil thinks he can’t possibly wake him up. But if he gets into bed with Andrew, he will. There’s no way around it. 

With a sigh, Neil turns off the light in the hallway, switches on his bedside lamp and quickly closes the curtains before he very carefully sits down at the edge of the bed. The mattress barely shakes. So far so good. 

Now he just needs to get under the covers without– Andrew jerks awake and Neil jerks back. All these years later, some part of Andrew still finds it hard to let his guard down. All these years later, some part of Neil is still running.

“Hey,” Neil says, “hey, it’s just me.”

Andrew blinks at him. He catches himself quickly. “Late practice?” he asks. It’s a badly concealed, _Where the hell have you been?_

“I went for a run,” Neil says.

Eyes narrowed, Andrew looks at him, searching his face like he’s trying to figure out if he should ask questions. It’s an unfamiliar look on Andrew’s face. Andrew doesn’t ask questions. Or, Neil should say, he doesn’t pry.

“I’m fine,” Neil is quick to add. Because he is. As fine as he can be after a nightmare that had him struggling for breath and after running around town for over an hour because he felt like his own four walls were closing in on him. 

Andrew cocks his head. He’s asking a question and Neil nods because whatever the hell he’s asking, his brain is screaming _yes, yes, yes_ , and he just wants Andrew’s hands on him. Andrew pulls at the sheets, pulls at Neil’s shirt, pulls him in and against him and, well, this isn’t new, exactly. But it’s rare. Neil ends up with his head in the crook of Andrew’s neck and with Andrew’s arm around him. Andrew pulls at Neil’s hand, tugs it against his chest, and keeps it there. 

“What’re you doing here?” Neil mutters. 

“I was sleeping until you came barging in here,” Andrew says. “No morning practice tomorrow,” he adds. “Nothing better to do.”

Neil hums. He closes his eyes. Sleep doesn’t seem like such a scary concept anymore. Not when Andrew is here. A lot of things seem less scary when Andrew is here, now that his exhausted brain is thinking about it. He hums again about nothing in particular. Andrew is warm and his shirt is soft and Neil can feel Andrew’s heartbeat, slow and steady, and he remembers what being safe feels like. 

“If you fall asleep _on_ me, we’re gonna have a problem, Josten,” Andrew says. 

Neil would move if he didn’t know that Andrew has absolutely no qualms about pushing Neil off him. Anyway, Neil isn’t asleep yet and Andrew hasn’t explicitly told him to get off, so he only squeezes Andrew’s hand and Andrew squeezes Neil’s hand back. It’s a, _Yes, this is still okay_ , and it’s a, _No, you don’t actually need to move_.

Andrew’s finger trail up and down Neil’s spine, and then up again, and into his hair, and back down and Neil can feel himself drifting off to sleep, which means that he should move, but he’s not ready to let go of the feeling of Andrew’s fingertips, so he promises himself that he’ll stay awake for a few more minutes. 

He mumbles something against Andrew’s skin, something like, “I’ll move in a minute.”

“If you don’t, I’ll personally remove you,” Andrew says, but there’s no exasperation in it. His voice is soft and his fingers are back in Neil’s hair.

Neil’s lips twitch. He’s too tired for an actual smile. He’ll really move in a minute. Maybe two. It’s probably five when he finally shifts, kisses Andrew’s neck, and clambers over Andrew, reclaiming his own side of the bed. 

Andrew turns off the lamp and the sheets rustle and then Andrew’s hand finds Neil’s wrist under the covers. Andrew’s thumb brushes over his skin and it’s like he’s asking another question. It’s something like, _Everything okay now?_ It’s not a question Neil has ever heard uttered out loud, not from Andrew. 

“Good night,” Neil whispers. It’s a reply, in a way. _Yes_ , he’ll sleep just fine now. 

“Good night,” Andrew echoes.

Neil is almost asleep when Andrew pulls his hand away. 

*

Neil is in the kitchen, sorting through old takeout menus, when he hears a key turn in the lock. 

For once, he’s actually been expecting Andrew to show up. They both have a couple of weeks off, and they’re both invited to Nicky’s next weekend. Until then, Andrew is going to _hang out_ at Neil’s place. Which just means that he’ll complain about the lack of food in Neil’s fridge, that he’ll eat all of his ice cream, and that he’ll grumble about the cats before cuddling one or even both of them, and that he’ll hog the covers at night and kiss Neil breathless in the morning. 

There’s the huff of Andrew silently complaining about the lack of an elevator in Neil’s building, there’s the bang of Andrew’s suitcase hitting the floor in the hallway, then the thud of Andrew’s shoes dropping to the floor. Andrew himself appears in the kitchen a moment later.

“ _Neil Josten_ ,” Andrew says and produces an offensively colorful magazine from behind his back, “ _Exy’s most wanted striker_.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Neil says, because he knows what that is. His teammates have been taking the piss for the last two days. He knew Andrew would find it; it was just a matter of time. It’s some gossipy article that will haunt him for weeks to come. Nicky called him last night and cackled for at least half an hour on the other end of the line.

Andrew clears his throat and flicks through the pages. “ _Exy fans far and wide have been following Neil Josten’s career ever since he became the rising star of the Palmetto State Foxes_.” Andrew smirks at him, “Look at you, _rising star_.”

Neil feigns extreme interest in his takeout menus. 

“Blah blah, ah, here we are. _There’s one question that many fans, female ones, especially,_ ” Andrew says, stepping up behind Neil, “ _have been wanting an answer to ever since we first saw those icy blue eyes stare right into our souls_.”

Neil winces at the comment about his eyes. On some days, he still can’t look at them for too long. “Christ, who wrote that thing?”

“Could have been me,” Andrew says nonchalantly. “I so love it when you stare right into my soul.”

“Fuck off,” Neil says, snorting when Andrew leans against the counter, batting his eyelashes at him.

“Oh, Neil,” Andrew whispers. He clears his throat. “ _Does Neil Josten have a girlfriend? When asked, he told us, ‘It’s none of anyone’s business.’_ That sounds awfully civil.”

It had sounded more like, _It’s none of your fucking business_ , when Neil had said it. He shrugs. He doesn’t care about any of this. He waits for Andrew to continue. There’s more to that article and the sooner they’re done with this, the better.

“ _Neil has always been secretive about his private life_ ,” Andrew goes on. “Oh, here comes my favourite bit. _Does the handsome striker with the unreal eyes know that he owns the hearts of millions of girls?_ ” He’s really struggling to keep a straight face now and Neil takes the opportunity to snatch the magazine out of Andrew’s hands. 

“Okay, that’s it.”

“That’s not very charming of you, Neil,” Andrew says. “And I am pretty sure that the lady who wrote that fascinating article on your love life did call you charming.”

Neil groans. 

“She’s clearly never met you.”

“Clearly,” Neil says. 

“What are you gonna do with all those hearts you own?” Andrew asks. He inches closer. “Come on, tell me all about your secret love affairs.”

“Shut up,” Neil says.

“All those millions of girls must be so jealous of me,” Andrew goes on. His fingers wrap around Neil’s wrist and trail up his arm, over his scars, then he hooks his finger around the collar of Neil’s shirt and pulls, gently. “Because I get to do this.”

Part of Neil wants to retaliate, wants to tell Andrew that, no, right now he doesn’t get to this, because that’s what he gets – or doesn’t get, he should say – for reading that ridiculous article to him. In the end, he does no such thing, because it’s been too long since he last saw Andrew and he’s actually been waiting for the sound of his key turning in the lock. He’s been waiting for Andrew to come back. Neil dumps the magazine on the table and lets Andrew pull him into a kiss. 

“Millions of hearts just broke,” Andrew whispers against Neil’s lips. 

Neil’s fingers tighten in Andrew’s hair. “I can’t wait until someone writes an article like that about you.”

“Sorry, but I don’t have the necessary heartthrob qualities,” Andrew says, gleeful. 

As annoyed as Neil is, it hasn’t escaped him that Andrew is in a particularly good mood today. Neil leans against him. Today, Andrew won’t mind. 

“I must be hard to be so handsome and charming,” Andrew says, his fingers brushing through Neil’s hair. 

Neil ignores him. “Can I?” he asks, because he doesn’t want to move, which is what he’d have to do to see Andrew’s face right now. So he has to do things the old-fashioned way. Neil still remembers how often he used to say, _Can I touch you?_ And then, after a while, it turned into a simple, _Can I?_ Sometimes, on days when it feels like nods aren’t enough, he still asks. When he can’t see Andrew’s face, he still asks. 

Andrew hums and mumbles a _yes_ and Neil wraps his arms around him and stays very still. This is easier when Andrew doesn’t have to worry about him moving. Andrew holds him for a minute, two, three, then Neil can feel him getting restless and lets go. 

There’s something in the way that Andrew is looking at him that Neil has never seen before. It’s another question, but this is the first time Andrew is asking it. 

Neil frowns at him.

Andrew sighs, like he can’t believe he actually has to say it out loud. “Do you want this to be a secret for the rest of our lives?”

Neil smiles because he knows how this started. This wasn’t even a _this_ back then. 

“What’s funny?”

“Nothing,” Neil says. “I don’t know. What do you want?”

“I don’t care,” Andrew says. 

Neil considers him. The look on his face. Bored of this conversation already. But if he didn’t care he wouldn’t have asked. Neil wonders if now is the right time for him to ask a question he’s been meaning to ask for a while now. 

“What is it now?” Andrew asks, because of course he can see the indecision written all over Neil face. 

“I want us to move in together,” Neil says. “And don’t–” He holds up his hand when Andrew opens his mouth. “Don’t say no before you’ve thought about it. Think about it, okay? We could get a place somewhere… in the middle.”

“What makes you think I was going to say no?” Andrew asks. 

“The look on your face, mostly.”

“I’ll think about it,” Andrew says. “Anything else?”

“Do I have to do all the talking?”

“I have very little to say right now.”

Well, Andrew has already asked his question. And Neil gave him a half-assed answer. He almost wants to ask Andrew for a cigarette, just so he has something to fiddle with, just so he can buy some time. 

Andrew is still waiting. He knows that Neil isn’t done. That’s why he asked if there was anything else in the first place. 

Neil breathes in and out a few times and doesn’t think about how much he’d like to run away right now. This isn’t even the most complicated conversation they’ve ever had. “I do want to tell people. About us,” Neil says. “But on our terms. Not when some asshole reporter shoves a microphone in my face.”

“Understandable,” Andrew says. “Maybe I’ll let it slip when some asshole reporter shoves a microphone in _my_ face at some point.”

_At some point_ is good enough for Neil. He nods. 

And Andrew is obviously done with this conversation because he grabs the hem of Neil’s shirt and gives it a tug. His lips curl into a smile. “I’ve thought about it.”

“When I said _think about it_ , I meant something like, sleep on it.”

“I have,” Andrew says. “Several times.”

“What?”

“It makes sense,” Andrew says. 

“Wait,” Neil says. “You’ve thought about this before I–”

“I do think about things occasionally.” Andrew shrugs. “Anyway, how could I pass up a chance to have you stare right into my soul every morning?”

“Shut up,” Neil says.

Andrew pulls him closer. “I’ll frame that article for our living room.”

For a second, Neil wants to say something like, _I hate you_ , but that’s Andrew’s thing and there wouldn’t be a smidgen of truth in it anyway. So he tangles his fingers in Andrew’s hair and leans in. 

He needs to come up with an elaborate plan on how to destroy every single copy of that article, but he forgets all about it when Andrew kisses him. 

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are very much appreciated :)


End file.
